I Barely Knew Him chapter 1
by Princess Thundercloud
Summary: Ariana Craig, a writer for the Gotham Times, recounts her tale of meeting Bruce Wayne/Batman, and her life in the ever busy Gotham City in this first installment of the fic "I Barely Knew Him."


"I barely knew him…" I sniveled out. "Yet he was the nicest man I have ever met." The funeral was beautiful, but not fitting for the man I knew. It was a funeral for the man on the outside, not for the man that he truly was. Bruce Wayne was dead, but more importantly The Batman was dead. But I am getting ahead of myself.

My name is Ariana Craig. I am a writer for the _Gotham Times_. I live like everyone else in Gotham, in fear. Our once beautiful city has been polluted by murder and petty crime. I never believed there would be a way for this cities sins to be forgiven. I only hoped that someday I would be able to leave. I also never believed that there was a Batman and Robin waiting to save people, until one day.

I had been staying late at work, it was late. I started to walk to the subway, but felt the eeriness of the night closing in around me. I stopped walking and tried to hail a cab, but nothing stopped for me. I kept walking toward the subway after about a minute. I was halfway there when two teenagers in leather jackets and ski-masks pulled me over and tried to take my purse. I put up a good fight, but it wasn't good enough. They eventually pulled out their knives, and threatened to cut me into a million pieces. As I look back on it, I can laugh at myself for being so stupidly scared, but at the time I felt like crying I was so scared. I gave the two hugs my purse and sat down and cried. Then, a noise came from down the street. All of a sudden, there was a giant figure standing in front of me, holding my purse. In a gruff voice he said "Try not to lose this again." I only got a slight glance at him, but it was long enough for me to see the giant man was wearing a bat costume. From that moment on I would never doubt the existence of The Batman.

The day after that, I was still in a trance over last night's events. I longed to know who this man who saved me. I searched and searched but I found nothing, not even a small clue. 'Damn, this guy is good!' I thought to myself. I wished there was some way I could repay him, something I could do to show him my appreciation. Then it hit me, I would find the famous "Bat Symbol" and write a note on it. I knew it was crazy, but I felt that I had to do something. That night I waited and waited for the symbol to show up, but it never did. I waited for it for 2 weeks, but I never saw anything. I eventually gave up hope, until one night it was finally on. I grabbed my coat and ran out the door and onto the roof of my apartment complex. From my roof I couldn't exactly see where the symbol was coming from, but I had a good guess. I ran down to the street and hailed a cab. I told him where to go, and hoped that the symbol would still be on by the time I got there. I was a fool to think it would be. By the time I got there, the streets were dead, and so were the rooftops. I sunk down on the curb and hung my head in shame. I stayed like this until a gentle hand was placed on my shoulder. I jumped a mile and then noticed that it was not a mugger, but a man. He looked like he was around 35 years old. He smiled at me and said "It is awful late for you to be out here by yourself, miss. Would you like a ride home?" At first I was inclined to say yes, for his face was so kind, but since I had grown up in Gotham, I knew not to trust anyone. Then, as I looked at his face more I realized who it was. This wasn't just some Joe-Blow, this was Bruce Wayne. I was shocked speechless. Here in front of me was the most rich and powerful man in all of Gotham. I slowly stood up and muttered out a "yes please." He led me over to his very fancy car, and proceeded to act like a perfect gentlemen. He opened his car door for me, called me "miss" or "my lady," I had never felt so useless in all my life, and never have. I couldn't do anything but stand there.

"So, you are a journalist for the _Gotham Times_ aren't you? I read your column on how Wayne Enterprise was one of the best companies in Gotham. I have to say, I am honored you would give it such a high praise." I blushed a little and replied "I was only saying the truth, sir. Just about everyone in this city looks up to you, and if they don't they should. You have done more for this city than anyone else. It is truly amazing what you are doing." He gave me a big smile and thanked me. I could see it was all an act though. That big of a smile? Why a child could have seen through him. I hesitantly asked him "Uh…Mr. Wayne…Sir….Why do you hide behind your smile? I'm sorry for prying, but anyone with half a brain can see that you are not happy." His act dropped and I saw how tired and old his eyes were, how his face reflected that of a person whose heart has been shattered and never correctly repaired. He gave me a half-hearted smile.

"Miss Ariana, you are one of the first people to ask me that. No one notices the man, they only notice the name. Thank you for your compassion, but we are at your apartment." I got out of the car, but before I got too far away, Bruce called, "Ariana!" I walked back. He handed me a card and said "If you ever need a ride or an interview or whatever, just call." With that, he drove away. I clutched the paper and walked up to my room.

I woke up in the morning in a haze. I wasn't sure if last night was real or just a dream. I hoped it was real. Secretly, I would like to think that last night was special but it wasn't. Somewhere within my soul I knew that Bruce Wayne, the most popular man in the whole city, with a new girl on his arm every night, with a beautiful smile and a wonderful body would never come to be friends or anything more with a girl like me. But I still hoped. I made no move to get up, only racking my brain for some proof of the legitimacy of last night. Then I remembered the paper with his phone number. With my haze suddenly gone, I jumped out of bed. I found the paper sitting on my coffee table. I clutched it to my chest, hoping it would bring me closer to the beautiful man who had given it to me. What a dreamer I was. I laughed at my foolishness and climbed into the shower.

Back in a haze, I ventured to work. When I got there, everything was normal, not a single paper out of place. I sat down at my desk and fiddled with my computer. Then my boss came around the corner and I started to jitter, trying to open any document that seemed important and to make it look like I was working. This attempt failed, it only accomplished making me look unorganized and crazy.

"Craig!" my boss shouted. "Are you working on a story currently?" I shook my head and hoped he would ask me to get coffee or some mind-numbingly easy task like that. But my prayers were not answered.

"Craig, it is your turn to do the 'Monthly Make 'Em Happy'." I slumped further down in to my chair, but I couldn't refuse the boss, unless I didn't want a job. The 'Monthly Make 'Em Happy' is that happy article that you find buried in the paper sometime during the month and it is a happy little article about how Gotham is good or how Gotham is still striving. No one ever reads them or replies to them, so this was a major blow to my ego that my boss wanted me to write the nobody piece. The hardest part was actually finding something happy about Gotham, the most crime ridden city in the country, maybe even the world. Then it hit me: The Batman. 'Is it worth the risk though?' I asked myself. Then, for the lack of a better story, I started to jot down some ideas about this insane vigilante who risks his own live for the safety of others. The story was to show how he was a true hero and not another one of the villains that polluted this city. The story was so that I could thank him, I hoped that he would read this paper, and find the 'Monthly' and would think to himself "I guess I really am doing good. I guess people really do appreciate me." I figured that even though he lived in the shadows and never asked for anything in return, he would like some gratitude.

I spent most of my time wrapped up in my work. I severely hoped that this would be one of the 'Monthly's' that would actually be read by someone. My hopes were far-fetched, but a girl can still dream. I spent hours poring through magazines, articles online and newspapers trying to find everything I could about this allusive Batman. But he's a tough one to find. He had no identify, not even rumors, and there were no spotting's, besides at night. Nothing on this one man, nothing. So, after many days of looking up information, I started to write and I found myself far too caught up in this article. I wrote from the heart. This was my one chance to thank a man who just about saved my life, so who wouldn't get caught up. When I finished it, I was very wary about giving it to my editor, but as soon as he saw the title, he snapped to and read the article. I slunk back to my desk in fear and was just starting to come back to reality when Greg, my editor, shouted "Ariana, come 'ere!" I cringed as I walked part my co-workers their eyes ranged from sympathetic to questioning to disapproval. When I got to Greg's office he closed the door and asked me to sit down.

"What is this, Ariana?" he said holding up my article. I looked down at my hands, suddenly very intrigued by my fingernails. He sighed and said more kindly "Ariana, please." I looked up at him and said "Well, Boss said it was my turn to do the 'Monthly Make 'Em Happy' so I wrote that. It seemed alright at the time, but I can rewrite it…" I trailed off as his mouth twisted.

"Do you mean to tell me that Batman truly saved you and that this should make other people happy?" I felt my cheeks turn pink from embarrassment and rage.

"Yes, sir, I guess I did. I thought it would bring people hope. I didn't mean anything by it." He nodded and said "Well, I would print this. In fact, I would put it on the second page, but let's see what Boss thinks. You know that The Batman is a very difficult subject, Ariana." I nodded, but couldn't hide my smile. 'Second page', I thought to myself. This was the closest thing I had gotten to a compliment from Greg.


End file.
